Sorry, I love you
by Europe28
Summary: "Well me and Matty were just wondering, and he said I should ask you, Are you in love with France?" That had been the question, and of course he had replied in the negative; but why did he feel so awful for having done so.
1. Chapter 1

**This Fic is Dedicated to _Bait and Switch _Who only just managed to get back on Fanfiction after her parents filtered it. This is a welcome back present and also, the first fic for the community I'm now in~**

Why had America had to ask him such a stupid question!

Arthur, also the nation of England, felt his face heat up with embarrassment. Stupid America, there was no way he had those feelings towards that person of all people.

"_What is it Alfred?" Arthur sighed, folding his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. They only had a five minuet breather before the next half of the meeting, and he'd been hoping to get a drink of water in the time, but America had asked for a word._

"_Well me and Matty were just wondering, and he said I should ask you, Are you in love with France?"_

That had been the question, and of course he had replied in the negative; but why did he feel so awful for having done so?

He let his eyes flick towards the man next to him at the conference table.

Francis was passing notes backwards and forwards between himself, Spain, and Prussia; grinning at one of them every now and then.

He suppose Francis was quite good looking, well it was unsurprising really; he was the country of love after all.

Of course Arthur preferred it when Francis tied his hair back, preferably in one of those pretty blue ribbons; and he needed to shave.

Suddenly Francis started, noticing that Arthur was staring at him.

He pulled a face, though seemed surprised when Arthur looked away again very suddenly.

There was the sound of a scuttle of paper, and Arthur found a crumpled note land under his nose.

Knowing full well who it was from Arthur knew he shouldn't really open it; it could have all sort of obscenities in it, but he did so anyway.

_Why are you looking at me?_

Giving an almost audible growl, he picked up his pen and scribbled back quickly.

_Of course I'm not staring at you bastard frog; I was just looking around when you looked up._

He tossed the note back, crossing his arms so Francis knew that he was offended that he'd even asked such a silly question.

But another note bounced back under his nose.

_You were looking at me, Antonio said you were._

Making a metal note to kill the Spanish idiot later, Arthur hurried another note back.

_That stupid Spaniard is too busy looking at Italy's brother to know what else he's seeing in a room._

As he batted that note in Francis' direction, he told himself that if another landed that he wouldn't reply to it. He was just encouraging him, if he wanted Francis to leave him alone he just had to ignore him.

Another note landed on the table in front of him.

After a short inner struggle, Arthur opened the note. Just because he wasn't going to reply to it didn't mean he couldn't read it.

_Don't tell me you were checking me out?~_

"Like I would being doing that you perverted French Frog!" Arthur was on his feet, he threw the crumpled note as hard as he could at Francis' head. How dare he think something like that! And how dare it be slightly true...

That was all they needed to trigger a fight.

"Well Big Brother just doesn't know how desperate you are" Francis smirked, ready when Arthur lunged at him.

Arthur soon found himself shouting all sorts of insults, and trying to land a punch on the French nation. When had Francis gotten so good at dodging his fists!

"Sit down!" He heard Germany faintly shouting at them; but nothing else mattered than assuring Francis how much he hated him, just in case he thought that his wind-up remark was actually true.

This was all Alfred's fault for making him confused in the first place.

Then he felt someone take hold of the back of his shirt and pull him off Francis with one yank. Gilbert had pulled him off Francis, most likely with a nod from his brother; because the Eastern German usually enjoyed a good fight during World Summit meetings.

Francis got to his feet, dusting himself off; smirking.

Arthur found himself struggling against Gilbert's hold, he just wanted to hit that stupid smirk off the bastard!

"Will you two stop fighting!" Germany barked from a little further up the table, "or I will make you swap seats with someone!"

They had tried a rearranging of seats once, but that had backfired when Francis had made a scathing remark at Arthur's opinion about something, and the Brit had dived across the table to punch him; knocking everything else off the table in the process.

They were France and England; they were meant to fight, that was just how it was.

Arthur shook his head quickly, he didn't want a relationship with Francis; he spent his life criticising people who did want one with him. After all you'd have to either be out of your mind or incredibly desperate.

Sitting back in his seat, Arthur choice to stare hard at the desk instead; sticking his pen in his mouth to occupy himself.

Then he began to ponder, why would someone want a relationship with Francis... He supposed he was attractive, and as rumour went he was good in bed. But, Arthur tried to concentrate harder on the pen, there was something else. Francis was the one who was always there to pull him out of a mess at the end of things, he'd always been there.

For just a moment, and a moment too long; Arthur let himself wonder what it would be like to be dating the French nation.

In that one moment the most vivid thoughts and images ran through his head, that his stomach gave a small twist and he thought he was about to be sick, but not in a bad way.

….Did he want Francis to do those things to him?

No, of course he didn't!

Arthur tried a different train of thought, trying to remind himself of why only idiots dated Francis.

He had too much stubble, he was perverted, he cheated on his partners with multiple people, he never ran a relationship longer than a month; and he always dumped his partners in the most horrible way. That was enough to put you off surely.

Besides Francis wouldn't consider him even if Arthur did want him.

Everyone Francis had dated was good looking, if not perfect. Arthur was far from that, and of course Francis hated him.

"What do you think England?" Arthur was brought back to the present when Francis prodded him, alerting him to Germany's question. Everyone was looking at him.

"A-About what?" Arthur stammered, incredibly embarrassed at the fact he hadn't been listening.

He made sure to listen as Germany re-explained what they were talking about.

When the meeting finished, everyone was rather grumpy with him; because it had turned out that Germany's initial topic had taken quite a long time to cover.

He took his time packing up his files, hoping everyone else had gone off in the direction of their respective hotels by now.

He was last out of the conference room, so closed the door behind him. When he turned around again, he found Francis standing right in front of him.

"W-What the hell are you doing you Frog!" Arthur pressed himself up against the door, trying to get as much space as possible between him and Francis.

He tensed when Francis put his hand to his forehead, "are you ill?" He asked suspiciously,

"Why would I be ill!" Arthur demanded, pushing Francis away from him.

"You were just acting weird in the conference that's all, you made us all have to sit through Germany's boring talk again," Francis glanced away, rubbing the back of his head; with an obvious 'don't care' look on his face.

"Alfred just said something weird during the break that's all" Arthur shrugged, feeling for some odd reason he should at least explain part of the story to the Frenchman.

He began walking towards the exit, a little shocked when Francis fell into step beside him.

"What did he say?" He asked curiously, though Arthur thought he caught a strange tone behind the question.

Well Arthur certainly wasn't going to tell him.

He sped up, signalling for a taxi.

"Which hotel are you staying at?" Francis asked, still standing beside him,

"The new place just outside the city" Arthur replied, knowing he'd chosen it specially because it would be unlikely the others would stay there.

"Me too," Arthur's plans just shattered. At first he didn't believe the Frenchman, but Francis showed him his keys with the hotel's logo on, "we can split the cab fare."

The taxi journey passed in silence. Arthur tried to focus on the view outside the window, but he thoughts had somehow gone back to that momentary thought in the meeting.

His face was blushing deep red, and he was trying desperately to think of something else, but with Francis almost touching him in the seat next to him it was almost impossible.

When the taxi driver stopped, Arthur paid his half of the fare in a flurry, and tried to make a run for the hotel.

But again, Francis caught up with him.

"So what was it you and Alfred were talking about?" That tone was back in his voice again, but this time it was a little stronger.

"Nothing" Arthur dismissed, choosing to use the stairs; hopefully the Frog would use the elevator. But Francis seemed determined on following him.

"It clearly wasn't nothing, if you missed such a long speech thinking about it," Francis' tone sounded irritated now, was he that angry about having to hear the speech twice?

"Look, I'm tired, can't you just drop it?" Arthur turned sharply down his corridor; hurrying towards his room.

"Too tired for a nice bottle of something?"

That stopped Arthur in his tracks. "What's nice about it?"

"Ten year old Red" Francis grinned, knowing he had hold of him now.

For a few seconds Arthur hesitated, "fine, but I'll just have a glass or two."

He followed Francis up to his room, and one glass soon turned into three, then he'd drunk almost three-quarters of the bottle himself.

"So," Francis uncorked another bottle, pouring Arthur another inviting glass, "this conversation you had with Alfred?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "I thought I told you to drop it, I'll pass out before I'm drunk enough to tell you!"

Francis pulled the glass away with a glare, just as Arthur was about to take it. "Fine, no point letting you drink all this nice wine then," he emptied the glass himself; before putting the bottle away back in the fridge.

Arthur watched it go with an irritated expression, "you'd already opened the bottle" he protested.

"If you just want to get drunk, you can drink some of the shit they have in the mini bar!" Francis suddenly snapped, his blue eyes blazing.

Feeling his head spin a little with the drink, Arthur got to his feet. "Your the one that must have a fever!" He shouted, "one minuet you invite me in here for a drink, then you're taking the bottle away! Make up your mind already!" He shouted, aware that he'd probably just woken up Francis' neighbours.

"I just want you to tell me what Alfred said to you, that isn't so hard is it!" Francis demanded, taking a step closer.

"Why do you want to know so much!" This was what was confusing Arthur about the whole predicament; why would Francis care what he and Alfred had to say to each other.

This question only seemed to annoy the Frenchman more, because he made to swing his fist at him. Arthur dodged, taking step backwards.

"Getting old are you?" He teased, unable to resist the jibe. Rather pleased with himself that he'd managed to dodge Francis' fist; he wasn't the only one who was losing his touch.

Frustrated at his miss, Francis made another swing for him; it missed again.

"Why won't you just tell me!" He growled,

"Why do you want to know!" Arthur yelled back, taking another step back, "you don't need to know everything about my life, I can take care of myself!"

He'd clearly said the wrong thing. Francis seemed both enraged and amused by this.

"You? Take care of yourself?" Francis moved closer to him, "since when?"

Feeling his irritation growing at this Arthur clenched his fists, "Of course I can take care of myself!"

Everything seemed to happen in a flash.

Francis pushed him backwards with both hands.

For a moment Arthur thought he was going to hit the floor, but then felt himself hit the soft covers of the bed. Francis must be more of a lightweight than him if he thought that was going to hurt.

Arthur scooted back on the bed, processing what was happening.

The next moment he was forced down into the sheets, with both his hands pinned either side of his head by his wrists, with Francis straddling his waist.

"How is this taking care of yourself?" Francis smirked, "I could have done a lot worse than this by now."

Arthur flushed, turning his face away, "I knew you wouldn't do anything; hitting you would have been a waste of energy," he didn't want to have to admit that Francis had taken him by surprise.

"How do you know that?" Francis questioned, lowering his face closer to Arthur's, "I might still do it now."

Feeling his heart beginning to pound, Arthur's mind went back to his imaginings. But he managed to bring himself back to protest, "stupid pervert, let me up now!"

"Only if you tell me what Alfred wanted to talk to you about," Francis was grinning like a Cheshire cat now.

Stuck between the bear and the cliff, Arthur swallowed.

Fighting the shiver that was threatening down his spine. Who'd have known Francis being so close to him like this would make him react in such a way.

Francis was waiting for his answer, when he gathered that one wasn't coming he sighed. "Fine just answer me this, did he kiss you?"

"What!" Arthur was completely taken aback, "Of course not!"

"Did he ask you out?" Francis pressed, a little surprised himself at the answer.

"No!" Arthur snapped, managing to prop himself up slightly, wishing that Francis would remove his knee from so close to his lower regions. "Nothing like that, he was asking me about somebody... I mean something different," Arthur bit his lip, he was an idiot.

"So who was he asking you about?"

It was just question after question with Francis.

"For God sake!" Arthur finally lost it, "he asked me if I love YOU!"

Francis' mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. "What?"

Taking Francis' shock as a sign of disgust, Arthur reassured him quickly, "don't worry, of course I told him I wasn't, he was just being stupid as always," he laughed uncomfortably.

He felt the bed shift as Francis got off him, sitting on the edge of the bed, with his back to Arthur. But Arthur could see his hands were clenched into fists on his lap.

Hesitating forwards, Arthur touched his hand briefly on Francis' shoulder, "are you okay?"

"Of course I am stupid Brit" Francis waved at him, "go back to your own room; sorry about the misunderstanding."

Feeling like his feet were behaving on their own accord, Arthur got off the bed and left the room; heading back down the corridor to his own room.

He didn't really understand what had just happened. Shouldn't Francis have been relieved that he wasn't in love with him; after all it would just be a pain for the French nation if he knew someone like him was in love with him...

Arthur sighed, glancing at himself in the mirror.

He had a pathetic childish face, and eyebrows he'd never grown into; plus he was small and scrawny, nothing compared to the body that Francis boasted of when he wore those tight fitting clothes.

Turning away from the mirror he changed into his pyjamas, and climbed into bed.

Hopefully it would all be forgotten by morning.


	2. Chapter 2

However, getting to sleep seemed more difficult than Arthur had first envisioned. Every time he closed his eyes he could imagine Francis' hands running up his chest, Francis' lips on his...

Arthur opened his eyes with a start, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. He brought his knees up to his chest.

Why had Francis been so bothered about him talking to Alfred? Even more so, why did he think Alfred would have kissed him or anything ridiculous like that?

All these thoughts were making his head hurt.

It was raining outside, and there was the faint rumble of thunder. Arthur didn't mind thunder as long as it wasn't right above his head. He was always sure to count the distance between the light and sound.

He bit his lip, even the lightning reminded him of Francis.

_Arthur clutched at his pillow trying to hide his fearful cry._

_Since France and his Norman friends had arrived in the country Francis had insisted they live together in one of the stone built Norman castles._

_The small boy let out another cry when the lightning shone momentarily through his bedroom window._

_With one more rumble of thunder a moment later, he jumped out of bed and scurried with his pillow to France's room next door._

_He hesitated before crawling into bed next to the older nation._

_At first France continued to sleep, oblivious to the fact Arthur had now snuggled beside him._

_Until more light filled the room, and Arthur began to cry._

"_England, what are you doing here?" Francis mumbled, rolling over to see the smaller boy clinging to his nightshirt._

_Arthur didn't reply, he didn't want the other nation to know he was scared of something as normal as thunder and lightning._

_Another rumble. _

_Arthur bit his lip and sniffed._

_France smiled, but it wasn't in a mocking way. He kissed Arthur's forehead softly, "I'll tell you a secret Angleterre" he comforted, "if you count the seconds between the light and the noise you can tell how far away the lightning is."_

_Arthur found this hard to believe, "But it sounds like its here."_

_There was a crack of light, and Arthur buried under Francis' arm. But the French boy began to count. "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven..." Then came the sound. "There you are Angleterre, that means the storm is seven miles away, it won't get you."_

That was where Arthur had gotten his habit of counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder from.

When he was a child he'd always been so amazed at how Francis didn't seem to be frightened of anything. The first time he'd ever seen Francis get frightened seemed to be so trivial that it had made him laugh.

"_Stupid France makes me eat his weird food" Arthur told the faerie on his shoulder. He'd managed to sneak away from the castle for a few minuets. It was so demanding when France was around, he always wanted Arthur to be learning something or playing with him._

_Arthur liked the time he had between just him and his faeries. They didn't like France's eccentric ways so often avoided him, meaning it was hard for Arthur to see them as often as he'd used to. He was afraid they'd leave if he didn't talk to them enough._

"_Arthur!" _

_Arthur's ears pricked up, he could hear Francis calling his name. Well tough, he wasn't a dog. He wasn't going to come just because Francis was calling his name; he'd come home when he wanted to._

_He resumed the conversation with his faery, and eventually France's calling died down._

_Arthur enjoyed himself up until the point it began to get dark and his stomach began to rumble, and he decided that now he wanted to go home._

_He was sure Francis would be angry at him, but it was Arthur's country and he had the right to do what ever he wanted here._

_He wondered back into the castle, looking around for something to eat._

_Suddenly out of nowhere France sweeped him up into his arms, holding him close._

"_Oh, thank God your okay!" He sniffed, holding Arthur back to get a good look at him, checking his face for bruises, "what happened? Where were you?"_

_France looked like he'd been crying, and his eyes were wide and panicked._

"_I was just out and about" Arthur shrugged, it didn't seem like anything to be worried about._

"_Why didn't you tell me! I've been worrying none stop all day!" France hugged him again, "please tell me where you're going, or if your going out. I-I thought something had happened to you."_

When Arthur had laughed at this, Francis had smacked him and sent him to bed without dinner, then brought him up some bread later and watched him eat it.

"One, two, three, four" Arthur counted, watching the light outside his window. Hopefully the storm would get further away rather than closer. It was a little near at the moment for Arthur's liking.

"One, two, three," he shivered, maybe he'd just counted to slowly.

"One, two," no it was getting closer.

Feeling like a child, and a little foolish in the light of what had just happened between them. Arthur got out of bed and snuck towards the door, then tiptoed down the hall.

He knocked as loudly as he dared on Francis' door, and it opened almost immediately. Francis must have had trouble getting to sleep as well.

"Arthur?" He sounded surprised, but nodded when he took notice of the thunder outside. The Lightning and Thunder were appearing almost in unison.

He stood aside to let Arthur in.

"Just don't think I'm bringing that bottle out again" he muttered.

Arthur flinched, he didn't like how cold Francis was being suddenly.

Sure they argued a lot, but they were never cold towards each other; at least not unless the other had done something serious to upset the other.

Francis closed the door, flicking on the switch, only to find it wasn't working.

Arthur heard him sigh.

But they didn't need the light to see. The hotel's rooms had large windows that even at night let plenty of light in.

"Scared are you?" Francis asked, moving over to his bed to fetch a pillow that he tossed down on the sofa, "I'll sleep here, you can use my bed."

"I'm not scared, and I'm not sleeping on your bed!" Arthur snapped, "who knows what you've been doing on it!"

Francis glared at him, "I can assure you I do all the solo stuff in the bathroom," with that he tossed himself down on the sofa turning his back to Arthur.

The Brit looked at him, surely Francis couldn't be asleep already.

Francis always slept shirtless, but at least tonight he'd had the decency to pull on a pair of pyjama trousers.

He felt a little hurt, had he done something wrong? As far as he knew he hadn't burnt any more of Francis' lovers, so what was the problem?

"What's wrong?" He asked, kicking the sofa with his bare foot, "your all sulky."

Francis sat up, shooting a nasty look at the Brit. "I said you could sleep in my bed, isn't that good enough!"

"I'm not staying if your just going to be nasty about it!" Arthur snapped, making to go.

He was stopped by a hand on the back of his shirt.

"Sorry" Francis muttered. He was on his feet now, his hand still tightened around the back of Arthur's pyjama shirt.

"It doesn't really matter," Arthur shook his head, waiting for Francis to slacken his grip on the back of his shirt.

When it didn't happen he had to give the Frenchman a prompt.

Francis released him.

Arthur turned to face him, finding that uncomfortable feeling he had whenever he was forced to register the fact that Francis was taller than him.

They had similar populations, similar GDPs, but it didn't change the fact that the country of France was geographically bigger than him whatever he did.

Biting his lip nervously, Arthur found himself wondering if Francis was bigger down there as well...

Where had all this come from so suddenly!

Arthur mentally slapped himself, he had to stop thinking about things like that.

If even the idea of someone thinking Arthur was in love with him had sent him into this state, Arthur didn't dare suggest that the thought might not have been all wrong after all.

"I-I'm sorry too" Arthur felt like he should apologise to, after all he must have done something wrong; Francis wasn't usually an unfair nation.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for" Francis smiled, bringing his hand up to brush a stray hair from Arthur's face.

"Y-Yes I have," Arthur knew he would never be able to get any sleep unless he said it now, "I'm sorry, I think I'm in love with you." He felt foolish when he said it, but at least it had taken a weight off his shoulders.

He should have thought properly when answering Alfred's question. Of course he was in love with Francis, he had been for years; he just hadn't recognised it until Alfred had put the idea in his head.

When at least two minuets had passed in silence, Arthur looked up at Francis' face, bracing himself for the disgusted look; but it wasn't there.

"You think?" Was all he had to say, though a bright hopeful look had snuck back into his eyes.

The change in his expression surprised Arthur, so he corrected himself, "I'm sorry, I am in love with you."

He was about to offer to go back to his own room when Francis pulled their mouths together, his hands snaking round into Arthur's messy blond hair. Arthur found his own hands trapped between their chests.

Oh God, he wanted this so much.

He didn't protest when Francis forced their tongues to meet; he even moaned softly when the Frenchman pulled him closer towards him.

Just when Arthur thought he was going to die from lack of oxygen, Francis let him pull back. During this time Arthur began to process what had just happened.

"I-I'm not sleeping with you just because you want a quick fuck" he murmured, touching his lips with his fingers; surprised to feel how bruised and swollen they felt beneath his fingers.

Francis pulled him back for another deep, but slightly shorter kiss, "I have to apologise too" he grinned, "I'm sorry, I think I'm in love with you too."

Arthur was taken aback, then he remembered it was Francis most common saying, so he crossed his arms and stepped back.

"There's no way that's true" he protested, "you hate me,"

"non, I don't," Francis tried to kiss him again, but the Brit dodged,

"Of course you do, people don't love people like me," Arthur turned away, contemplating making a run for it now.

But Francis swung him back to face him, "Arthur Je t'aime, l'amour pour Dieu croyez-moi" _I love you, for the love of God believe me_.

Arthur let Francis kiss him again, this time folding his own hands into the silky hair he'd always been so jealous of.

He felt Francis' arms hook underneath him, lifting him clean off his feet, before lying him down on the bed; more gently than he'd done earlier that night. He then climbed onto the bed over Arthur, pressing the Brit into the pillows with his next kiss.

Arthur closed his eyes, part of him believed he must be dreaming. This sort of stuff just didn't happen to him.

Francis' mouth was now trailing down his neck, his tongue swirling masterfully around the sensitive places that Arthur didn't even know he had.

It was like everything he'd been fantasising about in the meeting.

He felt a deep moan run up his throat.

Francis smirked, beginning to flick his fingers along Arthur's shirt buttons.

Arthur flushed, he hadn't quite planned out the scene where Francis saw how parenthetically weak he looked.

"You are thin, aren't you Cher" Francis grinned, moving his mouth lower over Arthur's now exposed chest.

Squirming, Arthur twitched his hands with agitation. He was growing harder by the moment and Francis wasn't doing anything about it.

"Francis..." He let out a small whine, hoping the French nation would understand what he meant; but Francis continued his previous business like Arthur hadn't even spoken.

So Arthur took hold of his hair with his hands and pulled.

"Ouch!" Francis howled, clutching at his hair, fixing the Brit with an irritated look, "Fine, fine" he agreed, pressing his hand over the material of Arthur's trousers.

Arthur tried to control his breathing as Francis' hand snaked down over his boxers where he groped the growing bulge.

"My, my Cher, you are hard tonight." In the next moment Francis' hand pulled his erection into the open, fixing his mouth on it; running his tongue along the side.

Arthur let out another sharp moan, feeling every part of his body react to the touch.

The Frenchman's tongue was now pressing against his tip. Unable to stop himself Arthur released a little pre-cum.

Francis raised his head for a moment, grinning and licking his lips; before running his hand along Arthur's member instead, speeding up with every stroke.

Arthur's mind was half travelling to the later part of his fantasies, would that be as good as he'd imagined it too?

He felt a wail slip through his lips, as with a jerk he cummed all over the bedsheets and Francis' hand, his member dripping and red from Francis' hurried movements.

Francis moved up to kiss him again, slipping his own trousers away.

Arthur gawked at the size of Francis' erection, would he even fit!

Unconsciously Arthur lifted his hand up and brushed his fingers against it, smiling with self-satisfaction when Francis shivered.

Arthur pulled him back for another kiss, while he braced himself for the pain of Francis' fingers.

The Frenchman pulled back from the kiss, reaching for the bedside table draw, and squirting a packet of lube over his fingers.

He hesitated, "are you sure you want to do this Arthur?"

The very fact that Francis had just called him Arthur, only made him all the more desperate to have that fat cock inside him.

"Just fuck me" he growled, clutching at the bedsheets.

Francis reached his slicked fingers down towards Arthur's entrance.

Arthur felt the first finger before it had even been pushed inside him. Tears spilled from his eyes, but he gritted his teeth. He knew this was necessary, even if it was painful.

The digit wriggled around inside him for a bit, then the second was added, scissoring out to make room for a third.

When Arthur let out an audible cry before he could stop himself, Francis kissed him, then began to whisper comforting words in his ear. The pain was too great to really understand what Francis was saying, but the sound of his voice just helped.

That was until the third and last finger was added.

Arthur choked back a sob, breathing in Francis' sent, and clinging to every half understood word.

Then Francis' fingers brushed against something.

Arthur gasped, his vision clouding. He could feel himself growing hard again.

"Better Cher?" Francis asked, wiping the tears away with his thumb, pressing his fingers against the same spot again, listening to Arthur's moans with delight that he was making his partner feel this way.

While Arthur was distracted, he spread his three fingers as wide as they would go.

The Brit cried out again, tensing.

Before Arthur ruined all his hard work, Francis spread his legs and entered him.

"Francis~!" The sound of his name coming from the Englishman beneath him only made his lower regions more excitable.

Arthur was amazed at the sounds he was making for the Frenchman, after all hadn't he hated him this morning? It seemed silly now...

He threw back his head, moaning with pleasure when Francis thrusted himself against that spot he'd found with his fingers.

But it was still painful. Cries were still mixed with the orgasmic sounds.

"Your so cute" Francis smiled, his eyes full of love, when he leant down to rest his hands either side of Arthur's head.

He did have to admit, having Francis' face closer to his did seem to minimize the pain somewhat.

"Don't call me cute" Arthur managed to mutter, "you make me sound like a girl."

Francis laughed, pressing their foreheads together.

He rose back up again, taking hold of Arthur's fresh erection to make up for their distance.

Every emotion was over spilling from inside the English nation. This felt so much better than he'd ever been able to imagine it would. Francis' gentle eyes and warm smile just made everything seem so much better.

"Together Angleterre?" Francis asked, thrusting a little faster, while pressing his thumb on the tip of the already pre-cum dripping member.

With a stiff nod, Arthur felt himself release at the same time that Francis filled him. He let out a loud cry, tears spilling from his eyes in even greater numbers.

After what felt like hours, his vision began to clear, and Francis pulled his dripping cock from his entrance.

Arthur could feel the cum dripping from inside him onto the sheets.

"Je t'aime" Francis breathed, shifting to lie beside him on the bed, pulling the blankets over them, "are these okay, or shall I wash them?"

Honestly, Arthur was too tired to care; he knew his hips would hurt in the morning, and they still had another meeting to go.

"They're okay" he murmured, absent-mindedly bringing one hand to touch the side of Francis' face, "I love you too git, but don't go telling everyone."

"Wouldn't dream of it Cher" Francis grinned.

The Meeting

_And then he gave this adorable little cry, I wish I'd recorded it for you. -Francis_

**Wow, I wouldn't have believed England had it in him – Prussia**

_**Don't look now Francis, but I think he knows what you're telling us – Spain**_

Francis glanced over at Arthur, who was cracking his fists under the table; fixing Francis with a dangerous smile.


End file.
